


Sister Therese

by DixieDale



Series: Unexpected Encounters [4]
Category: Clan O'Donnell - Fandom, Garrison's Gorillas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-01
Updated: 2019-09-01
Packaged: 2020-10-04 09:57:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20469158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DixieDale/pseuds/DixieDale
Summary: Meghada O'Donnell and Sister Therese.  Together.   At the Cottage.  For an unspecified period of time.  Even with the added buffer of Garrison and his guys alternating guard duty, the guys agreed with Goniff - "Lieutenant, this is not one of your better ideas!"  But as far as Garrison could see it, it was the perfect solution to his current problem.  And besides, as he said with such confidence, "what could possibly go wrong?"  When WOULD the man learn to stop saying that??!





	Sister Therese

**Author's Note:**

> Sister Therese was featured in tv episode 'Run From Death'.

"You want to have WHO stay WHERE?? WHY, Craig??!" 

It had been Actor asking for confirmation that his ears had not been deceiving him. The other three cons were still staring at Garrison, thinking they must have misheard their teamleader. Well, for one thing, they'd all figured Sister Therese was still in France. 

But no, she was in England, where she had spotted a collaborator posing as someone else. 

"So she needs to be protected til she can identify Calbouchet and he can be picked up. There's already been one attempt on her life, in London, and they're worried about a leak. So it's our job to see that she stays safe. We're far enough away from London, out from under the general eye. We know her, she knows us, is willing to trust us. There's too many people here, what with all the guards, and we do get some unexpected traffic. SO, I figure that's the perfect place to stash her where no one is likely to look, and where we're close by in case of trouble. No one would think to look for her there. And if they did, they'd be walking into not only one of us, but also a forewarned, forearmed Dragon, a very capable field agent, which they would never be expecting. It couldn't be better," he'd said with more than a little satisfaction. "I mean, what could go wrong?"

They listened, blinked their eyes, frowned slightly, trying to process what Garrison had just told them. No one knew quite how to express what each of them felt, gut level, though perhaps to differing degrees, except for Goniff. In him, that feeling of slight apprehension the others were feeling was obviously elevated to one of near panic.

"Lieutenant, this is NOT one of your better ideas," their pickpocket stated firmly, trying to speak with as little agitation as possible, certainly not the deep-down dread he was feeling. "Maybe the Parsonage would be a better place? The Reverend wouldn't mind, I bet. Same line a work and all. We could still guard 'er there. Bet Meghada would even be willing to 'elp, from the outside, that is. Even 'ere, maybe, if you don't think that would work; could 'ave the guards out doing some marching or something w'en we sneak 'er in? Nobody but Sergeant Major would 'ave to know. Meghada could work the perimeter along with one of us."

"Goniff, stop worrying. The Cottage is the perfect place - it's out of the way - there's no reason anyone would ever suspect Sister Therese of being there, not with Meghada's reputation for keeping visitors away. If there's any trouble, she and whoever's on guard there can hold it off til the rest of us can get there. It's perfect."

The indulgent smile, one just exuding smooth self-confidence, on Garrison's face made Goniff get the rare urge to just smack him a good one upside the head, a reaction more commonly generated by Casino. 

He gave Garrison a look of sheer frustration. He loved the man to death, he did; would follow him into hell and back, but sometimes he was just so totally clueless! 

He tried again, aiming to be a little more direct, and succeeding, by the look of open amusement on the other cons' faces.

"Lieutenant, let me rephrase that. 'Ave you lost your ruddy mind??! Think! The Cottage - Sister Therese - Meghada - together, with plenty of time to talk. Plenty of time to get to know each other. Plenty of time to tread all over each other's last nerve! Coo! It's a ruddy disaster just waiting to 'appen, and I don't think it's gonna wait too long!!!

"Goniff, calm down! It's going to be fine," Garrison said, giving Goniff a quizzical look. {"Sometimes he worries about the damnest things!"}

The others looked at each other. They might not have the same concerns as Goniff - well, who really knew what those WERE from that rather general, if obviously heartfelt, lament, but obviously he had some serious ones - but neither were they quite as confident as Garrison in a favorable outcome.

The favor had been asked, and if it had taken some serious persuading, ending with him asking "as a personal favor!", AND if the nod by the cottage owner had a definite air of reluctance about it, Garrison had just been relieved that his plan was set in place. 

The Sister had been retrieved from her obviously insecure place in London, secretly transported to Brandonshire, and taken to the O'Donnell cottage by the back way, through the woods, there to be deposited into the hands of Meghada O'Donnell. 

Polite introductions had been made, the guest shown to the library where the daybed had been prepared, sustenance offered and declined, and Garrison sat down to take the first tour of guard duty. 

"In here, not the guest cottage, I see. Yes, that's best."

Meghada had shrugged, "not that I like having strangers in my own quarters, you know that full well, but you said she needed to be guarded closely. I can hardly do that as well as might be needed if she's that far away, Craig, not unless I spend the whole night outside her door. And you did say her safety was paramount."

He noticed she seemed a trifle tense, but shrugged it off. It was well known she DIDN'T favor strangers at the Cottage, no matter how welcome he and his team might be. And he never HAD figured out why they were accepted - accepted, not just tolerated. Well, Goniff, sure, but the rest of them? He gave his own shrug, just glad it was as it was, and turned his mind to filling Meghada in on the remaining details.

Sister Therese had been exhausted and slept most of his time there; perhaps that was why he left with a totally unwarranted sense of satisfaction that this was going to work out fine, that Goniff and the others were just worrying too much.

*  
Things were not going well, as anyone observing the scene being played out in kitchen could have ascertained easily. Chief, currently on guard, certainly had no problem seeing what was what. 

Meghada swept her hand out in some gesture with no clear meaning, except perhaps to herself, but frustration was present in the hard movement. She pushed the half-done pan of string beans away and stood to address the kindly comment that had just been made.

Her lips were tight as she stepped closer to the serene-faced woman in the nun's habit and drew a deep, calming breath before she replied to that last little suggestion. The last of several the visiting Sister had made, each being presented with that gentle, helpful, patient and slightly condescending smile that grated on Meghada's nerves like a file on metal. 

Of course, Sister Therese could have said pretty much the same about how she was affected by the sizeable display of weaponry in the library, the bottles of liquor in the kitchen cabinet, the small collection of offensive if not obscene books scattered throughout the books in the room where she was sleeping, the lack of any books that she saw as elevating or beneficial, or a great deal else she had encountered since her arrival. Add that to the casual way Lieutenant Garrison had assured her that they and the young woman were well-acquainted, good friends really, and her mind was made up.

It was apparent to her that this was a highly-intelligent young woman clearly headed down the wrong path in life, most likely aided and abetted by Garrison's men. Not that they didn't have their merits, of course, but they were hardly appropriate role-models or companions! 

Clearly something had to be done, and it was quite possible she had been called to do that something. Well, she had been called to the right place at the right time to help those children in France, had she not? And had she not then been called to the orphanage outside London just in time to spot Calbouchet? Each time she had answered the call, and she would do so again. It was her duty, first as a novice, now as a nun!

Once she had pondered the situation and prayed about it, Sister Therese had developed a list of ways in which she could be helpful, guide this young woman away from making many of the same mistakes Therese had made in her life. Away from the mistakes she had seen so many others make. 

She was gradually presenting these helpful ideas to her hostess, not all at once, but bit by bit, so as not to cause offence. However, she was not even a fraction of the way through her list, and it seems every few hours there was a new item to add to the bottom, so she was starting to despair of getting the job done before she left. She determined to speed up the delivery process whenever the opportunity presented itself.

Meghada, on the other hand, was quickly developing a list of every nerve her guest was obviously attempting to fray, or possibly set afire. 

Chief had been wondering how soon things would come to a full boil. He was a little unnerved himself, the Sister having obviously looked at his constant handling of his knife with kind but firm disapproval. He'd tried to keep his hands away, but finally just shifted his seat where her eyes wouldn't be directly on him while he ran his fingers over his grounding touchstone, his blade.

Clearly Meghada figured the time had come for some plain dealing.

"Guesting laws require certain things of me, Sister Therese. That I offer you food and drink, which I have done from the same stores that provide mine own sustenance, of the same quality I offer as charity to those in need, not the dregs that might be thrown into the waste pit. That I offer you suitable clothing, which has been laid out for you, clean, and of a quality not less than mine own, indistinguishable from those any young woman might wear, not lewd or unseemly, not rags ready to be discarded. That I offer you a place for quiet slumber, which I have prepared, even in the chamber adjacent to mine own, as befits a guest deserving of highest honor."

Chief noted that her speech had acquired a different cadence, the wording almost as if she was translating her thoughts, the words from a different language to English and not having such an easy time of it. 

{"Well, she always said some things just don't translate so easy, and that sounds like some ceremonial list."}

The tightness of her jaw, the glitter in her eyes, HE had no trouble translating THOSE signs, but he could see that Sister Therese was not getting the message, perhaps not even trying, simply waiting for her turn to continue offering her unasked for opinion. There was a stubborn tilt to her head, her jaw that easily matched Meghada's.

{"Goniff was right. This was a real bad idea, Warden!"} he groaned to himself. He wished to hell it had been Actor here instead of him, taking this shift. Then, taking a look at the two women standing in the middle of the floor facing each other, he rethought that. 

{"Naw, he'd step in, act like what the Sister is saying is just fine, and Meghada has enough trouble dealing with Actor and his snooty ways even when there's nothing else going on. Why the hell wouldn't Actor listen, give the Sister a little friendly advice right up front like we asked him to!! Nah, he just says he didn't foresee any real problems, and didn't think a nun needed a lecture on appropriate behavior. Right! Like he didn't KNOW both of the women! Thing is, he's never really SEEN Meghada, not deep down. And he sees so much of himself in the Sister, sees her 'redemption' as a sign there might be a chance for him, he won't admit she'd get on anyone's nerves before long. Hell, he don't see how HE can get on anyone's nerves!"}

"And I appreciate all you have offered, Miss O'Donnell. And I mean no offense. I simply was looking for something to read, a missive, or perhaps a Bible, when I noted not just the absence of those, but the general makeup of your library. As well as the number of weapons adorning the walls. And a few other small things. That drew me to think on all else I have seen, other avenues you might pursue that would be more profitable to you. I merely wanted to be of some assistance, some guidance, since you were so kind as to give me shelter. It is my duty, part of my calling as a nun."

"Yes, I knew you were a novice when you first met the men. So now you are a nun. Congratulations on the promotion." That was offered with a sincere, if somewhat dry voice.

"So it's guidance you're wishing to offer. By informing me that bourbon, indeed all liquor, is the devil's drink, unless used strictly for medicinal reasons or in strict emergencies. Thank you, I will keep that in mind; I think I feel a hangnail coming on - can't let those go too far without proper treatment, you know. Could turn into an emergency one moment to the next.

"By explaining that the food set before you would have fed far more than just yourself, and suggesting I find a local family in need to share with instead of being so lavish at mine own table. I will be glad to include any portion you reject with the sharing I already do with the orphanage and pensioners and others requiring assistance. Obviously the Lieutenant was speaking out of turn when he suggested you could use a little building up, having been running on short rations for some time now.

"By insisting on keeping to your religious garb, even though it would be dangerous to everyone involved if someone should somehow catch a glimpse of you dressed in such a manner. And that just might happen if you refuse to stay indoors as requested and attempt to wander out into the garden as you did this morning. Even though you seemingly had been willing enough to take on other garments in the past, when the occasion demanded.

"By taking the time intended for your slumbers to sort through my books, deciding which were acceptable for me to keep and which were not; even to preparing a list of others you would recommend.

"Shall I mention the pulling out of the decks of cards, both the playing cards and the Tarot I use for meditation, and the dice - I was more than a little surprised to find those in the waste bin, you know? Though, as you said, it was the finding of the poker chips that caused you to realise the cards, at least the playing cards, were used for gambling, not just tricks or slight of hand. Well, I am sure your father taught you that as well as much else."

She read the shocked look on Sister Therese's face easily.

"No, the men told me no tales, and I doubt the Lieutenant has a clue. But your name, your father's name are not unfamiliar to me; I DO have friends, acquaintances in the same field, quite apart from Actor and the others. Gabrielle Lucien and Rene DuClos are only two of many. Yes, the word of your, ah, 'change of habit' was noted and discussed in those circles. Some admittedly thought it a waste of a superior training, some applauded your courage to strike your own path; most simply shrugged, having more than enough to think about elsewise. Perhaps a wise reminder that SOME know to mind their own business unless invited to do otherwise.

"Twas lucky, I suppose, that I discovered you fingering through my music before you thought to dispose of it as well, or my weaponry before you injured yourself OR the edge on my blades. And in answer to your chiding me for having those, how 'dangerous' they might be in inexperienced hands, I've used and bloodied every one of those, and not with mine own blood, except in the initial claiming ritual. I assure you, mine are not inexperienced hands. 

"Why do you think Garrison put you here in the first place? It's because between myself and any one of his men, we have a damned good chance at keeping you alive if anyone makes a try for you!"

Meghada paused long enough to draw a deep breath, Chief watching carefully. So far, it had all been words; he wouldn't intervene as long as it stayed that way.

"I am but trying to return your kindness, thinking of your benefit, your welfare, of your eternal soul . . ." Sister Therese started, speaking as if to a young child, perhaps one not overly bright, and Chief now winced, wondering how he was going to explain to Garrison their ward receiving bruises during her stay. 

Somehow, even though the Sister had been a pain in the ass a good part of their time together earlier, he'd forgotten how determined she was in doing her duty, as she saw it.

Surprisingly though, that seemed to calm Meghada down considerable, from the look of wry amusement that crossed the redhead's face. Her voice had, at least, dropped back to an octave more like her usual, and she shook herself as if she'd been caught in a sudden shower, seemed to settle a little inside, and the rising temperature in the room seemed to diminish slightly.

"Ah, yes. Thank you for your thought of repayment; it was most kind. However, my soul need not concern you; that is the province of the Sweet Mother, and I'll rely on Her to inform me if I'm venturing along a forbidden path. I misdoubt She requires your assistance with that." 

That was voiced in a deeply sardonic tone.

Sister Therese gave a relieved smile. Chief figured she was probably thinking something along the order of {"At last! Some point of similar thought, though I would have been happier if she'd spoken of Our Lord instead. Still, at least a point in common, something to build upon."}

That relief was destined to be shortlived, as Chief had figured it would be.

"Yes, I am sure the Virgin Mother will seek to guide you, with the help of Our Lord. But you must seek out the teachings, listen closely to Her words, THEIR words, and sometimes they DO send emissaries . . ." her voice trailing off at the involuntary snort of laughter that greeted those words.

Chief cringed a little, knowing that laugh far too well. {"Yeah, she's good and pissed!"}

"I speak of our Sweet Mother Erdu, Sister Therese, whom we of my people revere and who guides us in Her own image and in Her own ways. And if She was ever a virgin, though I suppose that is a possiblity, though one never knows with the Old Ones, that has not been the case for as long as my people have known Her. No, a most lusty one, from the tales I've heard; quite an eye for what She called 'jewels amongst the cobblestones', you know. Though don't let that phrase mislead you; quite open in Her tastes, She is, with not only the male form being that which pleases Her, or at least so I've heard.

"YOU speak of your 'Mary', I assume. Well, I've heard of her, of course. Comparative Religion classes were mandatory - Christianity, which spoke of your Mary - Judaism, Hinduism, Islam, Taoist Philosophy, Buddhism, Jainism, Sikhism, Shinto, Confucianism, Cheondoism, so on and so forth. The many varieties of Shamanism. Monotheism, polytheism, all the rest - well, at least a hearty sampling. I found them all of some middling interest - such a wide variety of beliefs - though nothing compelling enough to cause me to keep the writings in my own library. Well, I DO have a copy of the Tao, actually; the philosophy has a calming effect, I have found, when the ways of the Outlanders become more taxing than usual. But we of my people have little truck with the new-fangled religions such as your Christianity; we are well satisfied with our own ways."

Chief waited, but obviously Sister Therese had nothing to say to that astonishing (at least to her) commentary. She turned without a word to return to the sitting room and took a seat in the chair that had its back to the kitchen where Meghada was now calmly clearing the table. 

From where he was standing, leaning against the library doorframe, he could see their faces clearly. Both were more than a little scary, both quite determined, each in their own way.

{"Yeah, Warden. It's going just FINE!"}, thankful he only had another two hours before his relief appeared at the door.

Goniff had appeared, more than a little apprehensive at the thought of twenty-four hours trying to play referree. No, Chief hadn't taken him aside to tell tales, but the look of strain on the younger man's face told a story all its own. There had just been the quick whisper of "and was I right?" and the heartfelt response of "hell, yes! Better hope this gets wrapped up soon! I'm outta here!"

The morning started off alright, though quickly becoming tense, and for what would have seemed an inconsequential cause - breakfast.

Meghada had asked what the Sister would like in her omelette - Therese had demured with a polite, "whatever you are having will be just fine, I am sure." 

Meghada hadn't thought to have anything but coffee and perhaps a cheese biscuit, her stomach oddly uneasy, but certainly intended to feed the other two at her table. She explained that to Sister Therese, and again asked what would be preferred. 

"Cheese, herbs, sauteed vegetables? I have a few small pieces of ham that could be sliced in. And sour cream or a tomato relish - hot or mild - for spooning over and tucked inside."

Further attempts to narrow things down a bit were brushed away, and Meghada shrugged and put together a very simple cheese and herb omelette and slid it in front of the woman. A very small one, since she'd been chided the morning before about making the portions too large.

Turning back to the stove she started to make another omelette, this one for Goniff, one significantly bigger, certainly containing more than just cheese and herbs.

Sister Therese saw Meghada reaching for the eggs again and protested. 

"Excuse me, Miss O'Donnell. If you are only having bread and coffee, surely you don't need to make another omelette. This one is more than sufficient for he and I to divide."

The look of total dismay on Goniff's face would have had his teammates roaring. 

{"That little bit of egg? We're supposed to 'share' that and make a meal of it? When 'ere's 'Gaida fixing to make me a proper plate??"}

Meghada looked back from the stove, caught that look and suppressed a grin. Well, it was amusing in a way, but as if she was going to let the man sit there hungry, just because that irritating female was on her high-horse! 

Ignoring that suggestion, she went back to making a lovely big omelette, fat and fluffy, filled with cheese and a variety of sauteed vegetables, and just because she could, about a half dozen small cubes of that ham from the pantry. Adding the plate of cheese biscuits she'd pulled from the oven, tomato relishes in their jars, a glass container of sour cream, another of fresh butter, she calmly put Goniff's breakfast in front of him, slid all the rest to the center of the table, and poured herself another cup of strong coffee from the pot she'd placed on a trivet to one side. She was rather proud of herself for not strengthening it with a goodly slosh of bourbon. 

Taking her place, she waited patiently while the Sister said her devotions, or at least started too. Three minutes into what looked to be a lengthy prayer, Meghada picked up her cup, took a sip and reached for her biscuit, nodded firmly to Goniff to start. The look of gratitude from him easily balanced the slightly dire glance she got from under the Sister's half-closed eyelids.

{"Well, being polite is one thing, but I see no need for his breakfast or my coffee to go cold. Should a prayer before starting a meal really take longer than it took to prepare the meal itself?"}

Things eased off a bit after the table was cleared. Goniff had brought the nun an assortment of Bibles from the Mansion, knowing the more distraction the woman had, the better, and knowing just as well Meghada's library would hardly be to her taste. 

Somehow his cheery "should find something in there to please you, Sister. 'Alf a dozen versions or more, a few different languages; some even 'ave pictures," hadn't hit quite the right note, from the look on her face, or the fact that he'd just stashed them in a duffle and sat the whole thing on the floor in front of her, but at least she'd thanked him for making the effort, and settled down in the sitting room to select one to read.

No matter how little it helped the nun, the pickpocket's presence, even with his visible discomfort at Sister Therese's presence, had seemed to relax Meghada, enough that her face bore smiles and her voice was couched in more relaxed tones than the past hours had shown. At times, the two even seemed to forget they had someone else in the place, the teasing banter bordering on far too friendly terms to suit the Sister. 

She admitted he was polite enough, respectful towards her. Still, she'd never quite forgiven him for showing her young charges how to pick a pocket. Yes, she knew he had only been trying to distract and amuse them, but she knew quite well where such things led. Well, if anyone would, she would. She'd spent some time in prison thinking about such things.

Even the general conversation she overheard between the man and her hostess she found increasingly uncomfortable, though they never said anything that would bring a blush - just the simple unthinking easiness between the two that hinted of far more beneath the surface. 

And the Englishman was far too familiar with this place, pulling out dishes without being asked, without searching, fetching this and that, remarking after a trip to the pantry that the cherry jam wasn't holding out as well as he'd hoped, getting a laugh and a comment "well, and just who is responsible for THAT?" and getting a sheepish grin in return.

He'd even made his way into Meghada's bedroom without even a by-your-leave, returning without explanation, then making his way to the sitting room to thumb through a set of closed files on the sideboard. Sheet music, from the looks of it, handwritten, not printed.

"Ei, this one's new? 'Eye of the Storm'? 'Ave to play it for me sometime soon. Someday maybe I can wrap my 'ead around the notes on paper and 'ear it from just that, but not there yet," and she knew by the fast glance he'd given her that he wasn't intending that 'soon' to be when SHE was around. Still, he was acting as if it was his right, to look through those folders, to eventually hear whatever was on that sheet.

"Aye, something Coura requested. And don't blame yourself for not 'hearing' it; the chording is more than a bit complicated, weaving in and out, and I included all the instruments on the lines, just with different color inks. Didn't come as easy as some do, but then, saying what she wanted said but still keeping it fairly light, letting the music tell the story more than the words, that took some doing," Meghada had replied easily.

At a polite inquiry, Goniff had replied, "oh, my 'Gaida writes music, for 'erself and for a few others, and seems to just 'it the mark, everytime."

{"'My 'Gaida?? Yes, as I thought!"}

Meghada had laughed, "well, NOW, perhaps, laddie. Perhaps making up for those years of running dry, with not a word or a note seeming to be left inside."

The conversation now seemed to be easier, til Sister Therese asked, "and what sort of thing do you write?" to get a wry laugh.

"Oh, all different things, depending on what's asked, what comes to me unbidden. Funny thing, that. Wrote a Song of Praise when I was much younger. Twas well-received; even one of your sort, well, in the same general line anyway, had wanted a copy, though he seemed to have missed the point. Seemed to think it was praising his, your, Lord, and couldn't make him understand it was far different, praising our Sweet Mother Erdu it was, of course. Didn't seem worth the arguing, gave him a copy with my blessing when he begged, and sides, got a bit of a chuckle from the whole thing, me and my family, me picturing your Lord and our Sweet Mother singing it together while sharing a cup of honey'd mead at sunset."

That had bewildered Sister Therese, but she decided she would drop the subject, just as she was trying to ignore the familiarity between these two.

She'd watched as hearty meals were set out and eagerly devoured by the Englishman, while she herself took her preferred small portion and ate with slow and deliberate bites. When the bourbon bottle made an appearance to accompany a pear tart after the evening meal, she tightened her lips and excused herself, trying not to hear Goniff's puzzled, "didn't 'ave much of an appetite, now did she? Not feeling well, you think?" 

Meghada's reply had been low enough Sister Therese didn't make out the words, which was possibly just as well.

Goniff hadn't tried to entertain Medghada's guest; he knew how the nun would likely feel about any such attempt from him, and how Meghada would react if those feelings were voiced too strongly, and frankly, he just didn't need the misery. 

Oh, he respected Sister Therese - no mistake about that. She had courage aplenty, was resourceful, dedicated, had a good heart and a sound hand with the tykes, and all the rest. She just wasn't his cup of tea, just as he wasn't hers. So he'd stay, keep his revolver close at hand, keep his eyes open for any trouble from outside, and try to stay out of the line of fire inside.

The next shift hadn't come any too soon for him. He'd spent the night on a hard wooden chair in the kitchen, feeling Meghada's presence in the bedroom they shared when they were alone. He also thought he could feel the disapproving presence of the nun in the library, having a feeling if he so much as headed toward the bedroom to use the john, he'd be hearing from her right quick. He was surprised she wasn't coming to dress him down for what he had going in his mind, thinking of all the ways he and Meghada could be spending the time, even if they were restricted to just using that kitchen chair. 

He would have been wrong about that. Sister Therese had closed her door crisply, placed pillows tightly over her head, blanket on top of those, and firmly willed herself to sleep. She had already been reminded that she was a guest here, and that her ways and morals were not accepted, and her strictures would have no impact whatsoever. She went to sleep praying for forgiveness in not finding a way to bring enlightenment to her hostess, or even proper restraint from Garrison's man.

Meghada didn't sleep any more than Goniff did. That peekhole to the outside had been left open, and she kept both an eye and an ear attuned to any sight or sound that didn't seem right. She might not be relishing her guest and all her advice, but she'd promised Garrison she'd keep her safe, and by damned, she intended to do just that. Now, just to keep from strangling the woman herself!

Goniff had blinked at the stony and prim reception he'd gotten in the morning, and really thought it was unfair. 

{"Like I 'adn't busted my ruddy back in that chair all night, just so she wouldn't be uncomfortable! Next time, don't know that I'll bother!!"} though he HAD been given strict instructions from Garrison to be on his best behavior.

"Your best behavior as I would see it, Goniff, not during one of your 'let's hedge things' moments!" 

{"Funny, even BEING on my best, seems the Sister has a burr up under 'er bustle, uh, 'abit,"} he'd thought in some annoyance.

He just hoped Meghada had understood why he'd been so standoffish last night, bedding down in the kitchen, not giving her so much as a goodnight kiss, but he thought sure she had. Her smile this morning had been as warm as always, his plate well-filled, even with a spoonful of that coveted cherry jam. And besides, he had to admit, he'd have most likely gotten distracted in the bedroom, and that was no way to set a proper guard.

After a chilly time at the breakfast table, he hastened to make an offer he hoped would NOT be refused.

"Casino is due 'ere in about an 'our, 'Gaida. Anything you need doing before then?" he'd asked, getting a understanding glance and a quick knowing reply.

"Would you mind pulling a few things out of the stores? I'll make a list. And maybe check the garden for whatever might be ready?"

Yes, she had understood he needed some breathing room, away from that impassive stare he'd been getting.

By the time he was finished with that, Casino was just coming through the gates (and Goniff had worked very hard to make the timing come out just right, just allowing enough time to deliver the baskets and wash his hands.)

"Everything okay?" the safecracker had asked with a grin, seeing the glum look on Goniff's face.

"Oh, yeah. A barrel of laughs, 'ardly could sleep a wink for all the jollification. Seems turning into a full-fledged nun mellowed the good Sister more than a mite. 'Ave a good time, Casino. And - remember to duck. Aint got one of those turtle 'ats this time round, ya know."

Casino stared as the pickpocket had made his hurried exit. 

"Uh huh," he muttered to himself, and much more reluctantly turned to head in through the kitchen door.

Casino was on his best behavior as well, thanks to that last minute lecture from Garrison, and thankfully engaged the visitor in conversation for a great deal of the time. Of course, being on his best behavior severely limited his range of conversation, but he did his best. He had scads of female relatives, a lot of them older and on the more conservative side, even a couple of nuns in the mix, so he had some experience to draw on.

Frankly, even with his experience it wasn't easy, carrying the whole load, but neither women could find much to say to each other, not after that last confrontation. Not that he really knew what it was about, he'd been busy, but it must have been a doozy!

He'd just finished checking in with Garrison via phone when he heard the cursing start. Well, it was in Celtic, but he was pretty damned sure it was cursing. Oh, it wasn't loud, there was no shouting, but the tone was definitely not friendly, and he doubted it was the Celtic version of 'Ave Maria'.

It was tempting to pretend Garrison hadn't just said goodbye, pretend the conversation was still going on; anything to avoid turning around and getting in the middle of whatever the hell had just happened that he'd missed. He vaguely remembered hearing Goniff's name a time or two somewhere in the background, along with a few words he was kinda surprised to hear from a nun, but that was all.

"I am sorry, Miss O'Donnell, but I do not speak OR understand whatever language you are using. Would you care to translate that into French, perhaps English?" came a exceedingly prim response.

When he saw Meghada openly snarl, lean forward, and open her mouth to do just that, Casino reached for all his courage and leaped into the arena.

"Now, Sister, I don't think that's a good idea. Let's just forget the whole thing. {"Whatever the hell it was!!!"}. I'm sure you didn't intend to get her riled. Meghada, she has a bit of a temper, sometimes, sure but her bark is . . ." and his voice died away as he remembered that, no, her bark was NOT worse than her bite. 

Uneasily he took another look, checked to be sure Meghada wasn't wearing a gun or a knife. Trouble was, he knew he'd possibly not know even if she was. Not til it was too late. Not that Meghada needed a weapon in the first place. 

{"Now THERE'S a pleasant thought! Sheesh! Wish I DID have one of those turtle hats right now!"}

He too spent the night on a chair in the kitchen, but more out of feeling a need to keep an eye on the doorway to the library and the one to the bedroom. If either of them got up to get a snack or a drink of water and accidentally met in the kitchen, it could get messy. The farther apart those two stayed, the better he liked it.

Actor had the next duty, and what with him indulging his sense of humor by aiding and abetting the Sister in her remarks, the atmosphere did not improve. Frankly, neither did his standing with Meghada, though he'd not get the full impact of that at the time.

Later he would discover that payback is TRULY a bitch! Or maybe, a Dragon. Sometimes there wasn't a lot of difference.

After one lovely little interlude with the Sister explaining her opinions to Actor, him either agreeing or enhancing those 'helpful' little remarks, Meghada had had enough. She had been longingly eyeing the cabinet where the liquor was stored, sternly removing her thoughts from all those lovely bladed weapons on the wall in the library. 

Then, one final laughing remark from Actor outlining some failing or other of one of the team pushed her over the edge. Meghada by now was hearing that snarling growling hiss inside her head more than Actor or the Sister's words anyway. 

Arising abruptly, she basically threw all caution to the wind and poured herself a triple shot of bourbon, ignoring the reproving looks she received from both parties. Tilting the kitchen chair back on two legs, plopping her feet on the chair to the side, she glumly sipped at her drink. She purposefully left the bottle on the table, just to give them fair warning. 

There was one slight murmur of dissent from the Sister, but Actor quickly intervened. HE, at least, correctly read that cocking of one eyebrow and slight lifting of her lip to reveal her eyetooth; he quickly moved to engage the Sister in conversation, drawing her attention away from a snarling Dragon.

Meghada had kept her temper at bay at great expense to her nerves. Well, alright, so maybe her temper HAD gotten the best of her on a few occasions, culminating in an action she had brushed off as not entirely acceptable when this all started. If she'd known then . . .

Still, her 'guest' was unbruised and unbloodied, which she thought was all that could truly be expected of her, considering. Of course, that was possibly because she HAD decided to move said guest to the guest cottage after all, her hoity confederate right along with her. 

Actor had been stationed inside, devil take the proprieties, and Meghada had spent the night cross-legged leaning against the wall outside where, although she was chilled and soaking wet, she could spot any possible intruders the moment they poked their heads out. The mood she was in, she would welcome someone to unleash her temper on!

When Actor had suggested they swap positions, her inside, him outside, Meghada had firmly squashed the notion, leaving Actor shaking his head at the inscrutable ways of women, whether they be nuns or Dragons or otherwise.

The men were all gathered in the garden of The Cottage, smoking at the long table off to the side. They were waiting for the all clear to bring the Sister back to London, and for some reason Garrison's men had been adamant about waiting out there, not inside.

"Craig, I have to admit I am disappointed. I am not sure what transpired; I certainly saw nothing dire enough to warrant it, but the tension inside was such that you could slice marble, nevermind soft cheese! 

"Meghada spoke Celtic more than English during my time there, and most of it addressed to the ceiling. I haven't looked, but I imagine there may be a few scorch marks up there now that were not before. Sister Therese kept fingering her rosary and whatever she was saying, was being said without a voice, though her lips kept moving. She spoke with me, certainly, and she is a good conversationalist, but Meghada kept her distance, both figuratively and literally, from both of us for most of the time. I believe we are equally in her black books.

"In fact, we were both escorted to the guest cottage yesterday afternoon, quite firmly, and it was made clear that we were NOT to return, that meals would be delivered to us and left at the door. When I reminded her of the need to keep the good Sister safe, she just told me, and in a remarkably icy voice, that that was exactly what the move was to accomplish; that she couldn't guarantee her safety unless we DID make the move. And that she was not abandoning her duty, would be spending the night outside the door on guard duty, "likely freezing my bloody arse off, but would take a year of that over spending another minute with Her Nunship OR with you!!"

"I thought the Clan had guesting laws, traditions, making a guest welcome and all that," Garrison had said, his confusion evident on his face.

Goniff had chimed in, "well, that guesting thing works in both directions, Lieutenant; there's guidelines and such for both sides, and seems the Sister maybe stepped on more than a few of those things on 'er side along the way. Though I'm sure she was just trying to be 'elpful and all. Aint like she would KNOW giving all that free advice, telling 'Gaida everything she's doing wrong, trying to rearrange just about everything, wouldn't be thought too 'ighly of."

That innocent look and smile didn't fool Garrison for a moment, and Goniff let it turn into a knowing smirk. 

"Now, Actor, 'e's disappointed they aren't all lovey-dovey. ME? I'm just surprised 'Gaida aint tossed 'er out on 'er keister, and not just to the guest cottage neither; think 'er making a promise to you is all that's keeping 'er from it, you know."

Chief exchanged a long look with Casino, who put his two cents worth in.

"Have to admit, Warden, the Limey's got a point. Meghada was in the kitchen when I was there, chopping up some potatoes and carrots and turnips and one of those big rutabagas, when Sister Therese made a comment that didn't seem to go down so good. Meghada didn't turn around and say anything, but just up and buried that knife in the counter so deep, wasn't sure I'd ever get it pried out; gave up trying when she glared at me and told me to "leave it. It's probably safer that way." Figured she was probably right, so unless she changed her mind, you'll see it there when you go in."

Garrison stared, hoping like hell Casino was joking, but it didn't seem like he was, not from the knowing look on his face. 

Walking through the kitchen door, realizing he was alone, the first place he looked was at the counter, and sure enough, that heavy-bladed chopping knife was buried a good three inches into the wooden counter top. Just the sight made him shudder. 

Just out of curiosity, he walked over, got a good grip and pulled upwards. Not a hint of movement. He tried wiggling it back and forth; nothing. Taking a stronger hold, he yanked upward, feeling the muscles in his shoulder complain. Not even a quiver from the blade. {"Think Casino was right; it's probably best to just leave it there."}

He looked at his watch, went to the phone on the wall to call London to get the final All-Clear. At least that was going according to plan, all was in order and he was told to take Sister Therese to her new residence at the Orphanage of Jesu et Marie to the north of London.

Hanging up the phone, he turned to the stony-faced young woman now preparing to make a pot of coffee, ventured a smile and offered what, in retrospect, he DID realize was a really STUPID question.

"Everything go alright?"

The slow, painfully slow turn of Meghada's head in his direction showed her tightly-maintained control as did the rictus of a smile.

{"sort of like a death-mask"} Garrison noted with the part of his mind that wasn't frantically wishing he could take back that incredibly naive question. 

"Peach-y. Ab-so-lute-ly peach-y. I cannot remember the last time I had such a delightful time or had such a pleasant, easy-to-please, non-judgemental visitor. How can I ever thank you enough for making it possible, Lieutenant?"

That basilisk glare would have turned him to stone if there had been any justice in the world; in fact had him pinching himself to make sure it hadn't.

"In fact, the experience makes me wonder why I've avoided having house guests all these years," she continued, turning back to the stove, fussing to be sure the lid on the pot was on tight, then heading to the pantry for those scones Goniff had been hinting around about. The tin landed on the table with a loud bang that slightly warped the bottom and made Garrison wince.

"Now, Meghada. I'm sure it wasn't that bad. I know Sister Therese is grateful for what you've done. I certainly am," he'd offered with his most calming, placating smile. "Perhaps there was just a bit of a communication gap; you come from very different cultures, different backgrounds. I understand that. You have to take into account her motivations. I'm sure she wasn't trying to be offensive in any way, just trying to be helpful."

She glanced at him over her shoulder, replied in a highly ironic voice.

"Not so very dissimilar a background as you might think, Lieutenant, in some ways anyway. And I AM taking into account her motivations, both for becoming a nun in the first place, and for her 'helpful' comments and suggestions, the sharing of her insight into my life, my choices and my way of doing things."

She shrugged, and continued. "In her case, a young woman looked at her life, decided what she liked and did not like about it, and took steps to rectify what she felt needed to be changed. 

"I can respect that; I would not wish to judge the manner in which she made those changes, whether it was appropriate in scope, in relation to what she deemed the enormity of her transgressions, since it probably did little or no harm to others. And I do tend to overreact myself, on occasion, you know."

{"No, no judgement there,"} Garrison noted wryly, though he was careful to keep his face pleasantly non-committal. He was sure he would be courting some of that 'overreaction' if he so much as cracked a smile. He'd taken due note that he was no longer being addressed as 'Craig'; no, he was back to being 'Lieutenant', which had gone by the wayside some time previous. Obviously he had some ground to retake, though this was clearly not the moment for overtures in that direction.

Meghada continued, though with a suspicious look in his direction as if she was guessing his thoughts. 

"However, that she, a guest in my house, one I was under geas to protect from outside and from within, elected to look at MY life, decided what she liked and did not like about it, and took steps to rectify those areas, at least through 'helpful comments and advice', 'gentle guidance' as to my choice of companions, reading material, pastimes, food preparation, drinking habits, charitable endeavors, and much else? Ah, that is a different story. I must admit it took considerable effort to keep a calm and pleasant demeanor."

{"Damn, that hurts, holding in that laugh! But she'd probably not make that much of an effort to keep a 'calm and pleasant demeanor' if you let it out, so suck it up, Garrison!"}, the man trying very hard not to glance at that knife sticking out of the countertop.

That look was baleful now, one Garrison wouldn't want to have to face too often.

"I WOULD suggest, Lieutenant, the next time you bring me a 'guest' with that strong of an inclination for reforming others, that you also be sure to bring a roll of that new duct tape the military is using along with you. Unfortunately, I didn't have any in stock, or be assured I would have used it very early on. Certainly on her, perhaps on myself as well. It would probably have been easier on both of us, if a trifle unsightly."

Garrison wanted desperately to ask just what had transpired. What the Sister's 'recommendations' had entailed, specifically, but he didn't quite have the nerve. Perhaps he'd hear later, perhaps not. And perhaps he was just better off not knowing. Yeah, come to think of it, he was sure he was better off not knowing. 

Though he could bet he was going to get an earful on the trip back to London.

Thanking Meghada once again, he went out, very gently closing the kitchen door behind him. 

"Actor, go tell Sister Therese we're ready to leave."

"Goniff, I think you'd better stay here, see if you can't get Meghada in a better frame of mind," taking note of the enthusiastic grin from his pickpocket. 

{"Well, if anyone can, it'd be Goniff. Though he might not find it as easy as he's expecting. I wonder how they're going to get that knife out of the counter? Maybe just have the blacksmith come in and snap it off, then grind down any sharp edges remaining? Or maybe she'll just leave it there, as a warning. I can see that - someone getting out of line and her just pointing to that damned knife and raising one imperious eyebrow. That would get MY attention, right enough!"}

"Actor, you take Chief and Casino, head back to the Mansion, and get to work on the outline for that con for the Freemont job."

"I'll get the Sister to London."

Actor reappeared with Sister Therese, and they started to head out. Meghada came out to bid them farewell, a trifle stiff in posture, but still carefully polite.

"A good journey to you, Sister Therese. May fair winds, a smooth path, accompany you and ease your way, a warm welcome await you at journey's end."

Again there was that slight hesitation, as if she was translating something from another language to one common to them both. 

Garrison noted there was nothing about "had a great time, and be sure to come back soon." {"Well, perhaps that very traditional-sounding farewell didn't include that in the first place, who knows."}

Sister Therese graciously inclined her head. "My thanks. I will pray for you, Miss O'Donnell."

The guys winced, but surprisingly Meghada seemed to take that in the spirit in which it was intended. Maybe.

"And I will pray for you as well, Sister Therese, that you find what you are seeking, and continue to find it sweet and fulfilling thereafter - enough, even, to make you more easily content in traveling your own lane with a little more precision. And surely prayers never go amiss - you to yours, me to mine. Perhaps your Lord and my Sweet Mother will even share a little quiet amusement at the idea of our shared prayers, do you think? Perhaps over a cup of honey'd mead at sunset?"

Sister Therese turned on her heel and headed for the car, Meghada turned and headed into the kitchen, tossing a casual, "please lock the gate behind you when you leave, Lieutenant. I find I've had my fill of company for now."

Goniff leaned back against the table, grinning with amusement while Garrison headed for the gate, Actor leading Chief and Casino in the same direction.

Casino turned and taunted him, "better come with us; you heard her - she's had enough company."

That grin became absolutely gleeful. "Nevermind that, Casino; wasn't talking about me. Aint exactly 'company', ya know. And beside, you 'eard the Lieutenant. I'm to stay and get 'er in a better frame of mind. Don't expect me any time soon; imagine it's going to take my best efforts, and you never want to 'urry at a task like this anyway. Could be right dangerous, you know."

Chief shoved Casino in the shoulder, hard, looking back at Goniff, a rare smile on his face. "Get a move on, Pappy. We're keeping the man from his work," getting some complaint or the other from Casino. 

Whatever it was, Goniff didn't hear it; he was already halfway through that kitchen door. His grin had faded, his expression changing to one of thoughtful consideration.

He didn't see Meghada, but his eyes did linger on that heavy knife stuck so deep into the kitchen counter, and he felt that grin fighting to return. 

{"That's my 'Gaida. Coo! W'en the Lieutenant gets a bad idea, 'e really pushes it! Maybe seeing that will make 'im think twice next time. - Nah, not likely."}

She was in the library, staring at the array of books lining the shelves, the stack sitting on the desk, letting the titles nudge her memory, slide over her senses. There was not a book there she hadn't read, whether for tutelage or as a reminder of things she needed to know, some for pleasure, some for comfort. She reached for the Tao, pulled it out, thumbed through it thoughtfully.

A voice from the doorway, "thinking to read it again, luv? Might not be a bad notion."

She didn't start; she knew he was in the Cottage - how could she not? There was always an extra layer of warmth, of rightness, when he was here.

"Wondering if I made a mistake in keeping it. Outlanders and their upstart religions and their interfering pushy ways!" making a move to set the book on the table, thinking to put it in the 'discard' box.

He chuckled, came forward and gently took it from her hand, placed it back on the shelf in its appointed place. 

"Told me yourself it 'elps calm you sometimes, that one. 'Elps your mind look at things in an uncommon way, you said. Don't see any 'arm in that. Sides, don't see any Taoist priest showing up to tell you w'at to do and not do. Seems that wasn't their way. Old Lao Tzu 'ad a few words to say about such too, if I recall."

She chuckled, turned and nodded. "Aye, and the Sweet Mother herself spoke of visiting with the Taoists; said she had many a inspirational conversation with them. They didn't agree on everything, not much, in fact, but it was all quite congenial, everyone agreeing to disagree quite easily. No, you're right. I'll not toss away something helpful out of annoyance with having my space invaded."

With a brisk shake, she slid the last of the books that had been removed by the Sister back into their accustomed places. 

"Now, I'm for a snack and perhaps a cup of coffee or a pot of tea. Interested?" she asked, a smile at least approaching her usual now on her face.

"Wouldn't turn it down," he admitted and followed her back to the kitchen. 

She stopped dead in her tracks, getting a look at that knife buried in the counter. Goniff was more than relieved when a snicker of amusement, then an outright laugh came from the Dragon. 

"And w'at would the Tao say about that?" Goniff asked with his own look of amusement.

"Oh, something about how most anger is childish, but you should embrace and recognize that, for the child is part of each of us. Also that you should let anger out, not hold it within. Just striving to let it out in a way that does the least damage or disruption to the natural flow of things."

"And Erdu? W'at would she say?"

Meghada threw back her head and laughed, as she reached out, grabbed the handle and yanked the knife straight out without a pause, setting it back in its rack after making sure the blade was undamaged. 

"Probably something like 'child, you KNOW the Lieutenant is going to fuss dreadfully if you slice the annoying woman into strips for tomorrow's stew! Think! Is it really worth the bother?'"

He chuckled, pulled her into his arms. "Sounds about right. Now, about getting you in a better frame of mind. 'Ave my orders, you know. Maybe we'll wait a bit on that snack and pot of tea, ei?" turning and gently moving her toward the bedroom.

And she decided that was a fine idea, one the Sweet Mother would approve of most heartily. {"If anyone can get me in a better frame of mind, it's Goniff. Fact is . . ."}

He read the sly smirk on her face and rolled his eyes upwards with a little apprehension. "You didn't go telling 'er that, did you, w'at you're thinking right now? Never mind 'er, doubt 'er Boss would much appreciate the notion. Don't need 'im pissed at me; got enough to worry about!"

She laughed, put her arms around his neck and gave him a fluttering of the eyelashes and sweetly innocent look that would have been better suited to a rather flirtatious sixteen-year-old Outlander than a twenty-ish Dragon of the Clan.

"No, now whatever are you imagining I'm thinking, laddie?? Shame on you! Be putting me to the blush if you're not careful."

He squinted his eyes at hers, nodded with great skepticism, but decided he had better get to the job the Lieutenant had given him. He'd let the Sister's Boss and his 'Gaida's Sweet Mother argue the matter out, if they were of a mind to. Maybe while they shared a mug of honey'd mead. Maybe even while singing that song his 'Gaida had written. He found that a pleasant thought.

That pleasant thought faded away as he heard a faint masculine chuckle. 

*"Don't mind her, boy. I take no offence. She was just teasing. She has an odd sense of humor. Well, they all do.""

Goniff froze, looking around wildly, but seeing no one. It didn't help when he heard a faint female voice, one it seemed he'd heard before, reply to that comment.

*"THEY have an odd sense of humor? Tell me, just who thought it was such an amusing notion to create the platypus, tell me that. That poor mixed up creature! Never to mention that foolishness about cats. Oh, yes, the retractability, I can see how it can be an advantage, but if you thought it such a good idea, why not be consistent? Think how much easier trousers would be to fit. And that nonsense with the barbs! Spare me!"*

Goniff glanced helplessly toward the kitchen where he'd just heard the cabinet door open and close, the click as bottle and glasses made their way onto the table.

*"Now, I told you, I fixed that, Erdu! Well, made it so the females didn't mind, anyway."*

*"Don't mind??!! I've heard cats during mating season, and I'll tell you one thing, that's not total joy in the females' voices! Barbs! If I'd tried any of that foolishness with my Panthera or my Wolves or any of the others, they'd never speak to me again!"*

The sound of chairs being pulled out, liquid being poured into those waiting glasses, the now lowered voices continuing a conversation, made Goniff take a deep breath and move away from the bed where he'd once been so eagerly undoing that row of buttons on Meghada's shirt. Stepping to the bedroom door, making sure NOT to look into the next room, he closed it, paused, then locked it. Then paused again, before quickly moving the dressing table chair up under the knob.

Meghada watched him, open speculation evident in her face. 

"Goniff? Laddie? The guys are all gone, and the outside doors and the one to the garden are locked. Surely you don't find the Sister having been here for a few days THAT disturbing?"

He gave her a weak grin, and shook his head rapidly, "ei, no. Nothing like that. Just seemed a little, well, more private-like, you know?"

She didn't argue, just waited til he came and settled beside her on the bed once again.

{"Wonder if I should 'ave put something on the record player? Something really loud? Well, it's too late now."}. There was no way he was headed out into the rest of the cottage, not for a good long time.

She settled down into his arms with an eager sigh, sparing only one fast, discreet glance toward the kitchen. 

{"Hope they don't drink up all the bourbon; imagine my laddie and I will be looking for a drink later on. Ah well, the two of them always did enjoy a good natter, or so the old tales claimed. Pity me and Sister Therese couldn't get along so well as those we look to. Perhaps in a more neutral territory. Perhaps. Someday. But not any time soon."}

She didn't know if what she'd just heard in the kitchen was real or some part of her mind amusing itself with the possibilities. Writers, whether of stories or of music or aught else, often found the line rather misty. 

What she found intriguing was that Goniff had apparently heard it too, either the reality or the inner workings of her mind. She gave a low chuckle. {"Always full of suprises, that laddie of mine; truly a treasure sent to me by the Sweet Mother."}

Goniff gave her a quizzical little frown. "W'at? You've got that look."

"Oh, just thinking how much more pleasing you are to have around than some others - most others, actually."

"Ei, don't know that I'm quite satisfied with that answer, you know," he tilted his head in a amazingly accurate imitation of Actor at his haughtiest. "Most, indeed!!!"

She snorted, "oh, all right! More than ALL others! Satisfied now?"

He grinned, "well, it's a start."

And she pulled her mind away from the far-away things and back to the more immediate. And whether the conversation in the kitchen continued or not, neither she nor Goniff could have said. They were far too occupied with more important matters. Though she did intend to see if there were glasses in the sink that hadn't been there before. Not that it would truly tell her anything; polite visitors wouldn't leave dirty dishes anyway, would they?

Meanwhile, in that northbound car -

The first twenty minutes or so had been traveled in silence, but Garrison had no real hopes of that continuing. He could hear the mental wheels turning from the passenger seat, even above the noise from the engine and the road. He could feel himself winding tighter and tighter inside with the waiting for that shoe to drop. Then it happened.

"I still feel that I was sent here for a purpose, Lieutenant. That I was called to help guide Miss O'Donnell away from her current path. I could sense the potential within her - a deep yearning, a great passion for the spiritual. She is capable of being so much more than she appears at first glance!"

Garrison schooled his face to one of polite listening. He sure as hell wasn't going to say what he was thinking! {"Sister, you have no idea! I promise you, she IS far more than she appears at first glance! You should probably pray you never find out first hand just how MUCH more!"} 

"I wish she was more open to the possibilities; the Mother Superior at the Convent where I took my training is quite adept at guiding those who have a hidden vocation, those who do not yet realize where their pathway lies. I would have been glad to bring them together."

Garrison didn't wreck the car, but that was only because he was exerting a great deal of self control. He tried to picture that scenario, then desperately tried to put it out of his head before it caused a blood vessel to burst.

He made himself loosen his grip on the steering wheel, before either it or his knuckles gave way, tried for a little calm reason.

"Sister, you were 'sent' to Meghada so you would have a safe place to stay for awhile. I don't think you should read any more into it than that. As for it being a 'call', I'd say it was more of a 'wrong number'."

Sister Therese shook her head, smiling but still scolding him with her eyes. 

"Lieutenant, you are being frivolous, but I am quite serious. Perhaps another visit, without your men being present. Especially that - well, any of them, really. I'm quite sure I can get her to see the light. Perhaps some reading of the Scriptures together, in quiet privacy, without distraction, would be beneficial. We have acquaintances in common, it would seem, and surely the examples of how their lives have gone sadly astray would have to move her, after a little serious contemplation."

"I really don't think that would be a good idea, Sister. She may be deeply spiritual; but it is not the same sort of spirituality you're talking about. She is not of your religion, you do know that?" 

He could tell he might as well have been talking to the moon for all the impact he was having. Though he did get a quick sideways glance that gave him momentary hope. That hope died within seconds.

"Perhaps not now, but perhaps she has never been given the opportunity to learn the truth. Even with St. Paul, it took something extreme to tear the scales away from his eyes. Sometimes one can be mistaken as to one's own purpose, one's own place in life. I know that was certainly true in my own case."

"Sister . . . ". It was as if he hadn't even opened his mouth, he realized, for all effect he was having. 

"Though I do have to admit she is an extremely stubborn woman, firmly insistent in her belief that her ways are right, and most resistant to any good advice. Part of that may be due to a less-than-uplifting outside influence," she said, casting him a accusatory look.

{"Yeah, Richards has said he's not sure who's a worse influence on whom, Meghada or me and the guys. Of course, I remember the days when I hoped she'd be a calming, civilizing influence on my guys too."} he thought wryly to himself

"Still, with some continued effort on my part, I'm quite sure I could help."

There was no reply from Garrison, his having decided to just save his breath, and the Sister lapsed into silence as well.

There was about twenty minutes of blessed silence, for which Garrison was heartily grateful. Glancing at his watch he realized he still had almost an hour to keep it together. He'd held up under Gestapo torture for longer than that; surely he could manage another hour with the good Sister. At least, as long as she kept quiet.

{"And Meghada was with her for almost six days!"}

He tried counting to himself, but gave that up when he reached eight thousand four hundred twenty seven and then lost count when meeting a hay wagon on the wrong side of the road coming over a hill. It was a close thing - the hay wagon lost two bales of hay and he lost count, and just couldn't bear starting over.

After helping the farmer secure the bales, listening to a lecture from both the farmer AND the Sister about watching where he was going, politely refraining from pointing to the car clearly showing he had BEEN in the proper lane, unlike the hay wagon, he got back in the car and they headed off again.

"Perhaps one of the Welsh orders might suit her for her training; I think that might have been what she was speaking part of the time, you know. I am quite sure it wasn't Irish, or at least I don't think so. Though, maybe one of the silent orders, to begin with; she does seem to have a tendency to speak her mind, perhaps without realizing how inappropriately blunt she is being ."

Garrison took one quick glance at the Sister, staring out the side window, obviously puzzling over how best to settle Meghada O'Donnell into a more appropriate and more spiritual sort of life.

Involuntarily, his mind started presenting him with scenes from his own interaction with the redhead from The Cottage. Meghada, lips curled back, ready to tear out a man's throat with her teeth for hurting Goniff and Casino. Meghada coldly staring down at the dead men littering that rocky mountain gap - Gestapo and collaborators she'd conned into firing their guns at each other rather than at Garrison and his men as they had intended. Meghada laughing and singing bawdy songs at the pub to please Old Howie; dressed in low-cut green satin, purring out a torch song in Berlin to fool the Germans; telling near-unbelievable yet supposedly quite true stories of her people and their very unusual history and customs. Meghada dressed in leather, face painted in the historic markings of an assassin, weaving a tale that prevented an incident that would have left him and his men in desperate straits. Meghada offering food and comfort and ease to him and his men when most turned their back on them. Meghada turning the society dames on their heads, and making Major Kevin Richards groan with frustration. Meghada, for whom bourbon was like water was to him, and whose coffee could melt a spoon if you weren't careful. Meghada, for whom Goniff was apparently like catnip was to a cat. Meghada -

He was brought back to reality when Sister Therese started up again. He suppressed a groan and glanced at his watch.

{"Eighteen minutes, more or less, Garrison. Hang in there!"}. He pressed on the gas pedal a little harder, thinking to shave that down by at least a few minutes.

"My new position with the Orphanage will involve some travel in your direction. The Mother Superior I spoke of is due to visit shortly. Perhaps she could accompany me; we could make a point of stopping by, taking the opportunity to visit with Miss O'Donnell, pray together . . . Lieutenant? Lieutenant, are you alright? Lieutenant Garrison?"

Her voice trailed off in concern, then alarm as Garrison quickly pulled the car off the road, coming to an abrupt stop, and yanked open his door to hurriedly move to the trees at the side of the verge, bending over, his hands on his knees. 

She allowed only a moment before she followed, thinking perhaps he was ill.

She wasn't particularly impressed to see him leaning against a tree, red in the face, tears streaming from his eyes, helpless with laughter he just couldn't hold inside any longer.

Arms akimbo, she glared at him. "Was it something I said, Lieutenant?" she snapped, and that just seemed to set him off again.

It was another eight minutes before he felt himself capable of taking the wheel, and the last stretch of road was taken in total silence.

It really was best that way. As it was, he was having a hard time keeping a straight face, and SHE was sitting there with her mouth drawn up in a tight little moue of offended annoyance.

They parted ways on the steps of the orphanage, her giving him a polite, if rather stiff little nod as she said her thanks for his help.

"Perhaps we shall meet again, Lieutenant Garrison. Perhaps during one of my stops in Brandonshire to speak with Miss O'Donnell," she'd told him with a faint smile. 

He didn't reply, other than a brisk, "good day, Sister," before he headed back to the car. He got behind the wheel and looked back over at the steps. She was still standing there, and that self-satisfied smile of intent on her face made him shudder.

"Next time Goniff tells me something is a really bad idea, I think maybe I need to listen," he muttered to himself as he let off the brake and pulled out. 

Then he thought of some of the advice Goniff had given in the past, some of his pickpocket's 'brilliant' ideas, and reconsidered.

"Anyway, what are the chances of something like this coming up again? One in a million chance."

That calm, self-confident smile had returned. If Goniff had been there, he would have been tempted to smack the man upside the head. But Goniff was elsewhere, far too busy to even think about trying to pound some sense in Garrison's head.


End file.
